Please note: When I have sufficient time, I will write under each picture the names of the people therein.
Please note: When I have sufficient time, I will write under each picture the names of the people therein.
Wonder how I’ll go.
What will be my final blow?
What will finally bring me down
When life has brought me up, thus far,
And saved my life so many times before,
Till now, and kept me ’round?
Well, can’t complain.
I’m in God’s hands,
As inane as it sometimes sounds.
I know a Higher Power’s put me here,
And quelled my incessant fears.
It’s kept me going throughout the years,
And has been working Its powers
Without my knowing.
I don’t know if I’m coming
Or where I’m going;
So must bow my head
And keep on rowing;
Doing my best, and continuing to nurse
From God’s nurturing bosom
That’s freely flowing:
Food on the table, fruit in my mouth;
I’ll continue to cruise Life’s maze
Till laid “down south” —
While my spirit heads “up North,”
And keeps on going.
Yes, we keep on going!
We keep on rowing.
We’re a mighty herd of souls
That doesn’t stop growing!
Billions throughout the eons
Have kept on rolling.
That, alone, gives me food for thought:
The knowing I’m not alone
In this great river of life:
There is an energy
That holds me … enfolds me,
And souls that help
Save me and clothe me.
And there’s Genesis!!
Therein lies my thesis:
That I’m not alone.
Knowing this, alone,
Keeps me going.
Still, I wonder how I’ll go,
And what will be my final blow.
But knowing I’m not alone
And many have gone before me,
And continue to go right on,
Under my same circumstances,
Keeps my head up
And my qualms down
While I’m rowing,
And my feet on the ground
While I am sowing,
Storing good seeds in this life
For future growing —
All done in a mixture of
Wonderment and unknowing —
Yet, all the while knowing
A lot, just the same.
So in God’s name, I bow my head
And continue towing.
I won’t blame and I won’t dread,
Knowing soon enough I’ll be dead.
But long enough I was wed to Earth
And its circumstances
That have allowed me all my
Chances to grow, to learn,
To serve and be served,
And to earn my rest in Eternity
After being blessed to live
During Earth’s modernity –
Yes, just me and billions more,
Ad infinitum … into infinity.
So I’ll take the bull by the horns
And myself by the balls,
And no matter how
The “Bad wolf “ bawls,
I’ll follow the “Good wolf’s”
Calls ‘till I enter
The heavenly walls
Of the Infinite God Energy —
I’ll take my chances,
Not worry ‘bout circumstances —
Like fear that something
Bad could happen.
I’ll just keep on steppin,
And keep on keepin’ on,
Taking the good with the bad …
Never nappin’… my life long.
I was only here for a trip,
A temporary stay, anyway.
God meant it that way … not my way.
So soon I’ll be on my way.
Therefore, I’ll be a big girl now;
I’ll get by somehow —
Just like everyone else.
Tomorrow’s a new day,
And today I’m fine.
I’ll do it God’s way … not mine!
“Help me make a difference, I pray,
And be a blessing
To Thy cause each day,”
Is the only clause
I lay on my Maker —
My only request I send to
The “Grim Reaper”–
My “Taker” –
And life goes on and
Before you know it,
I will be gone …
And life will go on …
And so will my spirit …
And so will my song.
Another month of
And another to begin …
As time goes by.
Nice to feel God
Has me in His hands,
His fold … His mighty hold
As I continue ‘n’ keep on going …
And time goes by.
Please note: I have barely begun to post a few photos of family and relatives. There is much more to come down the line. And when I have time, I will better organize the layout of these pictures, plus add names of who the people are in the photos so you know better what you’re looking at.
Ponderin’ and Wonderin’:
A Conversion with Self
At seventy-one, I’m hung
upon my ladder’s last rung,
With its many steps,
And the protruding doornails
of a door half hung,
Wonderin’ what more
in life I could’ve won,
And why still try
to do something BIG
before I’m done?
Shouldn’t I presently
Commit to having fun?
Cease creating toil,
strife, ‘n’ strum?
Cease makin’ a mad dash —
My last dash left
to make somethin’ of myself?
Wouldn’t I now be better off
putting struggle on the shelf?
And sure, I ponder:
I may still achieve anything
I’m willing to sacrifice for;
But I can’t have everything–
The apple-pie metaphor,
The American dream,
And the gorgeous guy-next-door!
Though Positivists say
we can have everything our way–
And even more!
Great! Really?! I reply;
Let’s get real!
Though I’d try till I die,
Exerting effort till I fry,
I can only be sure of old age,
death, taxes, and the pill —
And drawing up my final will.
Yet, hope springs eternally,
on up ahead —
Lying in wait for me, still,
when I tumble abed;
And, as the sun sets overhead,
I continue to ponder …
and wonder …
wending my way up the hill …
Till suddenly I decide
pensive thoughts to kill,
And to take charge,
Get out of my head–
Change my thoughts,
Change my will,
Change my stead.
By choosing to be happy
And in the moment, instead,
I make all that’s positive,
pleasant, and good my Med
by treasuring the wonders,
and preserving the pleasures …
Nature’s bounteous blessings
that extend beyond measures–
An amazing, beauteous spread.
“If we’re not busy livin’
We’re busy dyin’,”
Guthrie and Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
Moving full speed ahead.
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.
I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
All things are small things–
It’s all in our head–
Only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.
We’re busy dyin’,”
Woody Guthrie and
Bob Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.
I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
“All things are small things.
It’s all in our head.
And only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.”
Or should I simply conclude:
“That ship has sailed —
Like two ships passing in the night,”
Or I could say, “Life’s a train wreck.”?
Or has that train left the station too,
Like two trains passing a wreck or two?
I’ve lived a long time – a lifetime –
Longing for love, acceptance, a honey,
Fun, friends, faith, to be thin, fit in —
Have lots of money.
So to say that thoughts are things,
And they created my life, sounds funny.
I only know old age and strife
Have blown all my plans to heck,
And that’s not funny, Honey!
That’s a wreck!
March 11, 2009
My life’s been something of a train wreck,
Thanks largely to those moronic,
Mormon fundamentalist fools
Who raised me in “heck”!
My distress and deprivation are the worst —
I wonder why I’ve I been thus cursed.
Lately some of such has been reversed,
And that brings me gratitude, elation, and mirth!
But I’m still well-versed and rehearsed in tribulation.
With lips pursed, I thirst for quenching and rebirth.
And to be rid of this cursed drenching in dearth
My soul’s immersed in — so unrelenting, it’s sin!
But hope springs eternal, so tomorrow I begin again.
And I do expect eventually I’ll definitely win.
Cast Your Worries to the wind
“Cast your worries to the wind,”
Uncle Joel LeBaron advised —
“Cast them to the dust;
And let the rain settle them.”
In this, Uncle Joel was wise,
Despite some unbelievable lies
(In at least some people’s eyes.)
Yes, toss over your shoulder
The things you can’t shoulder —
Happily, toss the big boulder;
Don’t allow it to smolder —
Keep the lessons learned,
This education you’ve earned;
But leave the negatives behind
For the wind to blow away,
During your daily grind.
And rain settles all, over time.
Evil loves to win; don’t let it in;
Don’t hold negatives within.
Dump them over the cliff,
As if they’d never been.
On your trip through time,
Never waste time on devil time;
For, to be sure, wasting time
Is a crummy crime —
Never worth anyone’s time …
any time! :)~
I eat, at times, to simply nurture
That gaping hole in my existence, I’m sure.
But one feather in my cap is I regularly get up
And a do a great morning workout routine.
I may feel like I’m bent, spent, and useless,
For some time thereafter, should I overdo.
But somehow, I “work it all out,:”
And with rest’s assistance, am able to renew.
I’ll be eating again before long,
At hunger’s insistence —
For I lack strong resistance,
Can’t faithfully pass up food’s existence.
But thank God I’ve formed helpful habits:
I don’t store irresistible foods, for instance.
And buy healthful and unpackaged products,
For it all makes a difference.
But still I struggle
With this fat in my middle.
It’s an ongoing “Battle of the Bulge.”
How to win the battle is my unsolved riddle,
And has been since I came of age.
But, I tell myself, it could be worse;
So be glad I only have this struggle,
And not some more incurable curse.
*Note: The following poem was inspired after I listened to the audiobook of
“Into the Beautiful North,” By Dr. Luis Alberto Urea
Ode to Chava Chavarin and the “Tres Camarones” Team*
What is in a name? I hesitate to say,
But the name, “Chava Chavarin,” continues
To ring in my brain today, anyway —
Though I finished reading
“Into the Beautiful North” yesterday.
Like wind heard in the rain but can’t be seen,
It’s even invited my muse to come ‘n’ stay
And have her way
Long enough to spin out this verse,
For better or worse, today.
So what is in a name? Well, let’s be terse:
It does seem “Chava Chavarin”
Is a name befitting a comedian,
A performer, or boxer in a ring.
Then why do I find my thoughts
Continuing to chant “Chava Chavarin”
Without ceasing, as in a song
You’re compelled to hum or keep singing?
I hear “Chava Chavarin” — with its
Bell-like, incessant ring
Continuing to chime at this time in my mind,
As it entices my muse to turn out more rhyme.
To say the least, it’s afforded
My morning some fun time, like the wind chime
Hanging on my backyard Catalina Pine
That playfully dings its unending
“Ting-a-ling-ling,” at times.
And I can still hear Tia Irma incanting,
“Hey, has anybody seen the amazing human being,
My dream, Chava Chavarin,
In whose memory I wear this precious ruby ring?”
Into the beautiful north, of course,
They were heading, to find and bring back
The male being for a wedding — or a bedding —
Or for abetting their courageous scheme —
Especially the noted Chava Chavarin.
This, I’d say, was a mission especially befitting
Nayeli, the super-quest queen,
And Atomiko, the self-knighted,
I’m impressed with this
Enthusiastic, Quixotic team:
Like Cervantes’ Don Quixote
Chasing windmills in his dream,
They, too, did it their way!
And thank God for Chava Chavarin:
He saved the day
And helped fulfill the scheme
Of the ambitious “Tres Camarones” ring.*
(*Tres Camarones means “three shrimp.”)
The town of Tres Camarones is accosted by bandidos at a time when most of the men in the town have gone to America to look for work. After watching The Magnificent Seven, Nayeli, a nineteen year old girl, decides to travel to America to convince seven of the town’s best fighters to come back and fight the bandidos
Nayeli and her three friends Yolo, Vampi and Tacho, begin their journey with the financial support of her aunt Tia Irma, the mayor of the town. Along the way they lose their luggage and a good deal of their money. In Tijuana, a garbage picker and skilled fighter named Atomiko helps them across the border. Once across, Nayeli seeks out the assistance of Matt, a missionary who had come to their town three years in the past and left her his phone number. They find two more warriors in a migrant worker camp.
Tia Irma takes a plane to San Diego to meet up with them, and while she continues searching for four more candidates to bring back to Mexico, Nayeli and Tacho leave for Kankakee, Illinois to look for Nayeli’s father, a former policeman. However, they find that her father has a new family, and she leaves without speaking to him. Meanwhile, Tia Irma has rounded up twenty-seven fighters.
The story ends as a boy on the roof of Nayeli’s taco shop shouts that he sees her in the distance with an army behind her.
Frothing at the Mouth
It infuriates me and froths my mouth
That pushy bull, “Bethel-A-hole,” corralled me
Into her “pen” to write for her “pad” —
Her newsletter, that is!
Then tried to whiplash me
Into my own automobile,
To further wrap the noose about my neck,
Then squeeze it —
She’s another hornet like Irit —
And I can’t take such shit!
Betsy-boots, who roota-toot-toots
Her own flutes and horn,
Is another controller like them —
Another old hen full of “corn.”
Let’s nip the wings of the Royal B’s —
Clip them down to size.
Whoever succeeds at this enterprise
Should certainly win first prize!
Buoyed when Author Steven Pressfield
Encouraged creative works,
My creativity now no longer shirks;
I’ve ceased hiding my light beneath lampshades;
Today I daringly call spades, spades —
I’m beginning to finally face my muse,
And my creative juices use.
We must “paint badly” to paint well,
And dare to “write badly” to tell our tale;
Where our creative works then lead,
Should we follow the muse’s heed,
Artistic natures never can tell;
We can only face our fears and dare to fail,
In order to discover if we can ever do well.
But if creativity we are to wield
We must “Resist Resistance,”
Stresses Steven Pressfield
In his work, “The War of Art.”
That is, Creatives must somewhere start
In order to their creative gifts impart.
If they don’t dare fail, they’ll never start …
Never survive the writers-block dart …
Never write the book of their heart;
Never do their creative part.
So dare to break through artists’ blocks
Whenever your amazing muse knocks.
To win your inner creative battles,
You must do it on a dare: Dare to fail …
Or you’ll never find if you can ever do well.
Daring creates an artistic outpour;
Time only can tell what’s next at your door;
But it’s worth the effort to face “Resistance”
And give your gifts, despite its insistence,
Because you discover and fulfill yourself,
And countless others as well,
When you create your art
And tell your tale!
By Stephany Spencer, C 2016
Lovely Lively Lizards
I detest supporting lazy “lizards” —
Leeches, losers, and welfare abusers:
Socialism can be Welfare for users.
So, lazy-daisy loafing “lizards,”
Penniless-paupers, down-and-out dizzards,
Get off your rump, use your gizzard,
And from the welfare rolls be scissored!
My new slogan is herein delivered:
“Be part of the solution,
Not the pollution blizzard!”
I’m always seeking a better way to be.
Perhaps I’ll solicit
Lazy, loafing “lizards” to help me!
No offense to Nature’s lizards —
Those reptiles running free.
I love lively living lizards, literally!
Thanks to them, there happens to be
Less Lymes disease plagueing humanity:
Lizards help rid Earth
of the lousy Lyme tick infirmity!
by Stephany Spencer
Be a researcher and reader, instead.
Above all, use your own head.
If you can help it, don’t be a sucker,
And don’t be “quacker” —
Though it’s not so easily done as said.
Regular medical doctors
are often no better;
and that sucks!
It’s difficult to trust anyone,
when involved are big bucks;
but I’ll die trying …
While inadvertently continuing to help
doctors earn more bucks!
A “quack” and a sucker are born every minute!
That sucks! Quack-quack!
But don’t be a sucker nor a quacker …
Nor a smacker when you suck ‘er.
And never smack ‘er!
That’s life. You make the best of it.
If it helps, Baby, suck a tit.
But eventually, you’ll get over it.
Get over it!
More and more we are less and less
The U.S. we used to be.
It’s inflation and stagnation, you see.
And illegal immigration
And the global economy–
These three mixed with the usual greed
Are legendary down through the century.
And it’s changed what once was our country.
I wonder now, are we really so free?
And who’s pulling the strings of our liberty?
I’m all for improvement and equality,
But is that what we now really see?
By Stephany Spencer 9/16
From Ma to Marie, they competed with me
Like free-wheelers in Bedlam Town,
And the devils had come ‘round to roost –
Or like All Souls Day in hell —
And free reign was given the devil
For a thousand years, as well —
Plus a ticket to ride my poor hide in all gears!
No holds were barred,
So I could never let down my guard.
It was as though they owned me —
And controlled my incarnation and destiny
Like I was their ward and they were Sanctity.
What in heaven and tarnation
Brought me into this creation?
But overcoming all ’tis my expectation;
And success will reward me with salvation:
Change my karma, change my world —
Change my whole station!
Does low self-esteem
Cause the womanizer’s chase?
And is scoring all Ladies’ Men
Have going for their race?
What the fuck, then! What “luck”!
Is this their journey on life’s playing field?
Then it’s best never to them yield.
For their dick has a life of its own to wield!
Just wish I didn’t let the “spider” get to my “fly.”
But these “Harry,” tarantulas know
How to play loose lonely ladies so!
His dick but tips its cap and winks,
And “Look! Won another match!!” he thinks.
“Another notch on your belt,” me thinks!
For he’ll never be true; his integrity stinks.
Fooled again?! I’m a fool in love,
Foolishly fooled ’round with in womanizers’ rinks!
~ Original Sayings ‘n’ Short Poems From My Pen to Yours
I think mice are very nice.
Some people say they have lice,
And leave mouse tracks in their rice.
With pet mice that’s quite rare,
So therefore I declare,
I still think mice are very nice!
(My first poem, age 8)
This quote I wrote — I wrote this quote:
Yesterday’s sorrow is the humor of tomorrow.
That is, today’s sorrow is grist
For humor mills of tomorrow.
NOTE: I wrote the quote:
Though the concept’s
Been around a long time,
‘Twas moi who put it
To rhythm and rhyme.
~WORDS OF ADVICE:~
Since we were dormouse poor,
I preferred to live by the following adage,
(To not be caught with threadbare
“Holy” towels and underwear
When unexpected guests were there):
Use the worst first,
‘Lest the best be gone
Before the guest!
Beulah Stephany Spencer,
I’m a poet and I know it,
But my feet don’t show it:
They’re not “Longfellow’s”—
They be short “Fellows.”
(Stephany Spencer )
I’ve kept my head to the grindstone
And my shoulder to the wheel;
It was the only way I knew
To grind out a good deal.
(Stephany Spencer 2013)
His butt’s as broad as a “Broad’s” or “Bitch’s,”
But flat as the broadside of a brown barn in britches!
Is this “butt” but a yarn in stitches?
Sure not sure which it is!
(Stephany Spencer 2016)
“Find love before it’s too late,”
Always good advice to take,
For the older you get
And the longer you wait,
The harder it gets to find a good mate.
They say I have to go through it to get through it —
Go back over my past and go through all that shit again
Till I’m through it — through with it.
So the only way out is through it, then;
And we must do it over again and again
Till we get it. And then we can move on.
Get it? Got it! Then move on! :)~
Watch out for people who offer
“A shoulder to hold ‘er,”
Or cry on!
Or who promise the sky;
Then lie on and on —
As they let it fall on you;
For one in ten people
is a Con — a sociopath,
Says the author of the book,
“The Sociopath Next Door,”
Authored by Martha Stout.
(You may want to check it out!)
Fanatics say, “Don’t think you’re a big shot
‘Cause you’re not. You’re likely a big snot!”
“And don’t get out of line!” They say:
“Toe the line;”
“That is, serve the Divine!”
But I say, use your own brain;
Follow your own Higher Power’s line.
That’s the reason God gave you a mind.
What I think of myself is none of your business.
And what you think of me is none of mine!
Said another Way: What I thinketh of me is none of thine;
And what thou thinketh of me is none of mine.
They fit hand-in-glove, those in iniquity —
The power-mongers and their brown-nosers
Rooting for perks, power, and popularity.
“I’ll do anything to make it!
“Even stoop ‘n’ take it,” says he —
“I’d let him make it in my ass,”
Says gay Joe Krass, the “wannabe” —
“Anything to be in a movie!”
It’s a stinkin’ proposition, if you ask me!
The “edge of age” is always cutting
Into my funny bone, my joy, and “amore,” anymore.
As I “sage,” I find it hurts to be laughed at,
Spat upon, left out, left to die,
or looked down upon,
As though old age were a catching sore:
Verily, ostracization hurts to the core!
Yet, oldsters are the butt of comedians’ jokes and fun,
Because we find old-foggie puns funny when we’re young.
But now I find such humor is unkind — way overdone.
“Old folks!” you say? Listen:
We oldsters are still human, still someone!
Everyone is aging from the moment begun!
It won’t be long before you, too,
hit the wall on the run,
Then discover, like us “sagers,”
One’s soul is forever young.
Without an ombudsman to accompany me,
Doctors can be freewheeling racketeers, I see –-
Free to wheel their rackets however they please,
Unresponsive to their patients’ pleads;
Especially when there’s no witness to back them up,
Doc’s ‘n’ dentist have no fears: Their peer-policies
Assure no corrections by their peers!
“Complete power corrupts completely,”
So they’re Rollin’ in high gears!
Therefore, I can be an impatient inpatient,
Laden with fears!
I’m an impatient inpatient!
“Party Pounds” = Party Potluck Dinners.
So if you would be thinner,
Avoid the party-potluck-dinner! :)~
They say,”A moment on the lips,
Forever on the hips!”
I say: “Food’s a moment in the mouth,
“Butt” sits forever down south!”
Work it out to get it out — again and again.
That is, to be healthier, you must
work out the anger and the pain
That’s been stored up in your body again and again —
That is to say, stored up time after time;
Therefore, you must work it out time and again.
( Stephany Spencer)
In Love with a Womanizer
Being fit into his schedule,
As fits his playing ’round,
Leaves me unfit to get around downtown,
‘Cause I’m tied up in stitches and fits
Over a womanizing brown clown
Whose misdeeds incessantly get me down.
The avant-garde composer John Cage said,” The material of music is sound and silence. Integrating these is composing.”
Could we say the material of poetry is also sound and silence — or syllables and silence? And integrating these is composing –– albeit poetry?
We could, as well, compose music and poems that go together … compose songs, that is: Songs are but poems/ lyrics set to music.
Now I digress into a poem,
And confess it may be set to music!
Blame it on my muse:
It’s a pretty broad spectrum to contemplate upon.
After I’ve contemplated more, I’ll enlarge upon it —
Perhaps by way of a musical composition long —
Or even a song … or sonnet!
Now, diverging a bit from my theme,
I’m aware of what some “poetry authorities” mean
and say about poetry with rhythm and rhyme.
Enter to my rescue poet Lord Byron
Who said ( paraphrasing I am):
“Some people prefer poetry without rhythm or rhyme,
But as for me, all the time,
Give me poetry with rhythm and rhyme.”
Amen to that, I say!
Now, till another time,
Have a nice day,
And enjoy this rhyme …
Or have it your way.
Any old way is okay
But I’ll rhyme on a dime,
Or sing for a dime and tea —
Any old time is best for me!
I promise you’ll get your $.10 worth …
I’ll throw along with it some music and mirth!
Now, how’s that for an ad-libbed verse … or line?
Well, we’ll be picking up here again next time! :)~
Stephany Spencer, 9/13/2016
*NOTE: The above piece “John Cage and Composing” inspired my niece Vicky Rogers LeBaron to compose the following beautiful poem:
In Adulation of Song
How can a song trifle with my emotions so?
It tosses my tears on the beaches below.
Then my resurrected heart soars
Far above the craggy shores.
As it reaches the crest of the waves,
Suddenly it breaches,
And I’m thrust into the depths of another emotion,
On the rolling waves of the sound in motion!
What a rush to feel the melodious sound
As it vibrates through me to my soles on the ground!
A cacophonic pleasure with each passing measure.
And I realize:
I have found the treasures that abound
In the waves of sound.
In an instant I’m moved to a place I’ve not been,
But is somehow familiar and comes from within.
How does it transport me fro and to?
Do I hear with my ears or the thoughts that ensue?
The vibration surrounds me
And fills me clear through!
Is this a primal instinct or a thing I’ve learned new—
To be still and listen? Really listen.
To ride the sound waves, to soar on it’s breeze
Takes almost no effort,
It’s done with such ease.
So, oblivious of anything I could lose or retain,
The melodious refrain is controlling my brain,
And all other thoughts disappear.
Momentarily there is nothing to fear.
So I let myself fall.
I’m lost in the swells of vibrato, staccato, legato …
They beckon me to immerse myself
In this sea and see.
The chorus extolls, then a lonely bell tolls
And soon rapture ensues!
My heart strings play along
In adulation of song.
Completely irreverent of my desires,
Whether the sounds of nature
Or the singing of choirs,
I’m carried away on the wings of the song,
Irresistible and enthralling, my heart lauds.
Shall I try and resist as my soul persists
To insist that I bury my heart and mind
In pealing waves of the oceans I find?
Nay, I say.
As I rise to the top of the waves,
The song fades.
I catch my breath as the ocean calms;
Nothing but stillness fills the air.
I am there,
Immersed in peace and serenity,
Feeling like an eternity of bliss
Is echoing in my mind.
And the song in my heart echoes,
“Until next time.”
The oceans of sound in motion
Were written in the measures of creation;
These songs are for our elation.
We must learn to listen.
I surrender my devotion
With my heart’s emotions,
And I will ride the waves of song.
Will you come along?
By Vicky Rogers LeBaron
Helen’s home life makes mine and Marie’s life
Look complacent in comparison.
Her home’s a hotbed for tulips – or “two lips” – in hell!
Oh, well! Poor “Hel.”
But you never can tell, from the outside,
If a home’s a heaven or a hell on the inside.
And it’s probably just as well.
Now I know God loves us all the same,
And we all partake of joy and pain,
Free will and choice, loss and gain;
Plus a chance to journey to the waters main,
Drink up and make a memorable name,
And an understanding of all things attain.
Though the journey is far from ever easy,
The lessons learned affect us deeply.
And I’ve found God gives many things free,
And carries us when we’re too weak to be.
And those that are free eventually may see
The meaning behind it all — eventually!
By Stephany Spencer, 7/16
Dear readers, please note: I have changed names in my Memoirs, in various cases, to protect the innocent — mainly myself!
I also acknowledge that in writing my memoir blogs, I know I can’t avoid hurting my family, relatives and past friends I grew up with. Anything I say at all against their church, or their religion, for example, hurts them.
In fact, just my leaving their religion I grew up in hurt them, as did other choices I needed to make for myself — such as dropping all contact with my family for many years during “the Ervil scare.” I decided back then that if my choices had to do with the safety and well-being of myself and daughter, I had to do what I had to do, even if it hurt them.
But when it comes to things I do that violate their rights or ability to consent, that’s where I try (and sometimes fail) to draw the line. If I need to say something bad about my family because it’s also part of my experience, I’ll try to be vague, keep their names out of it, and not demonize them. I’ll try to keep them humanized.
I was fortunate to have a fairly good family who simply made mistakes. I see any mistakes they made as coming from ignorance and misinformation. We all make mistakes. We wouldn’t be in this world if we were perfect.
None the less, I like what Anne Lamott said, “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
I am hoping that by “telling my stories,” I will be helping to make a better world through further enlightening and thus alleviating some of the world’s ignorance and misinformation. In so doing, I can’t help but enlighten myself in the process too — And isn’t that why we’re here: Enlightenment?
The Book “Prophet’s Prey,” was authored by outstanding LDS Mormon Leader, Activist, Detective and Private Investigator Sam Brower. It is among the best books written on life within Mormon fundamentalist clans and enclaves.
A film by the same title, “Prophet’s Prey,” opened in theaters on September 18th, 2017. It’s based on Brower’s chronicle of Warren Jeffs and Short Creek/ A.K.A. Colorado City — Check out the Trailer and film online.
Recently I noted on Facebook Utahn Sam Brower is running for Iron County Commissioner. Because I appreciate so much all the work he has done to help rid the world of such as the menacing, maniacal “prophet/profit” of evil, Warren Jeffs, I wrote the following poetry slam:
“Slam Slogans” for Sam —
That Sam-I-Am” —
for Iron County Commissioner:
Vote for Sam Brower,
He’s got the power!
He’s passed the test!
You can bet with Sam
You’ll get the best.
He’s heads and shoulders
Above all the rest.
Now Is The Hour:
Cast your vote
For P.I. Sam Brower
For Iron County Commissioner;
Help this superpower
Overpower his opponents
At the 11th hour!
Put Sam Brower in power,
Then get behind this
And watch your work
Make fodder flower/flour!
By Stephany Spencer
*The following video gives insight into Mormon fundamentalism and how I was raised — and what I escaped at age 21.
What a brilliant comedian is Jim Gaffigan!
He makes me laugh, then laugh again.
His moniker is “Mr. Universe,”
And he’s earned this name.
For most standup comedians’ work
Is loaded with filth, smut, and worse —
To make up for ad-libbing that’s lame,
They employee obscenities and curse.
But Gaffigan’s humor is satire clean —
At least any of it that I’ve seen.
If only there were more so funny
Without being dirty and mean.
Another comic like Gaffigan,
Is hilarious Kathleen Madigan.
She, too, makes me laugh ‘n’ laugh again.
Both have lines filled with humor and wit,
Sans obscenities and words like *#%!
(By Stephany Spencer 2013)
In today’s blog, I am featuring my amazing Aunt: Rebecca Kimbel. I highly recommend listening to her YouTube interviews, among other things. To make it easier to get to know a little about her, I copied and pasted some of her online information.
But you may find more information at her website, RebeccaKimbel.com, and on her YouTube Channel.
Around a year ago, I discovered her on YouTube where she had produced many live interviews with Ex-Mormon fundamentalists.
She is one of my many relatives I did not know about or had lost contact with when I went into hiding after escaping the cult I was raised in.
Since coming into contact with her and listening to videos of her TV shows recorded on YouTube, I have become so much more enlightened.
I also recommend listening to the outstanding speech she did on Ted X — which you can find and listen to on YouTube.
There, in around 18 minutes, she manages to outline ALL the most poignant factors involved in Mormon fundamentalism, including being raised a White slave in modern America!
I look forward to your comments and feedback, knowing you will benefit from having listened to any of Aunt Rebecca’s Independently produced TV shows she has also recorded on YouTube.
But for now, I present her remarkable online Bio:
This is a part of my front yard, taken around two years ago. I removed the lawn and planted California friendly, drought resistant Gazania and other water-Smart plants.
Then I used red Canyon rock and other such to further create landscape design and color — plus a matching mulch for around the plants.
By now the Gazania is blooming so beautifully.
Have you ever done landscape design? And do you love beautiful landscape? That’s the artist in you.
I recommend listening to Doris Hanson‘s YouTube interviews. She had her own independent TV show for many years. Now she produces her shows on YouTube.
I have learned a lot from listening to these excellent interviews she has done of especially mainstream Mormons, and also Mormon fundamentalists who have left or escaped the Sect they were raised in. Each has an interesting story to relate — and I can “relate” to all of them.
Talented Jennie Garn, a cyberspace friend, produced this beautiful take of herself on her smartphone!
This is a Selfie of me. I was surprised to find I could take pictures of myself with my iPhone that are as good or better than any pictures I’ve had taken by photographers, in general.